that in its prime it could seat some three thousand people all able to
hear a single orator without the aid of artificial amplification.
Senators once debated here before the assembly enacted on a pending
law, but the voices had long since fallen silent.
Carpet and ceramic tile once marked off sections showing the
sixteen regions the old arena represented.
Only the faint remnants of tile could be seen at the center of the
amphitheater now, the wooden podium and carpet long since reclaimed by the
Only stone benches, some with room enough for two or three
delegates, survived the centuries: too tough for rain and cold to rot, and
too heavy for scavengers to cart away.
Encircling the remains of the Old Arena stood great marble pillars,
some toppled and broken others still supporting the enclosing foyer.
The shattered bits of the roof they supported now lay scattered
across the stone foundation below. Weeds
grew up between the cracks in the pavement and a few trees forged their
way into the circle of pillars, reclaiming nature’s right.
No one alive today could reproduce the architecture of these
buildings. When the
civilization fell during a time called the Fall of Nations, the memory of
its people, its knowledge, its technology, and its history fell as well.
In its place grew myths and legends like the trees that grew up
from its fallen ruins.
Chapter 1: Treasures from the Past
Copyright 2001 by Darrell A. Newton, All
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Last updated: December 10, 2001.